by Natalie Dean
“He’s good people,” Bradley continued.
“That he is, best of my cousins. Although I gotta admit, I sure resented being compared to him when I was younger. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”
“I suppose. Thankfully, I found my niche. But I’m going to wish my best to the groom and hit the hay.”
“What? But it’s so early!” the man objected, looking borderline offended.
“I know, but we get up early on the ranch. I’m sure you understand.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll go get Christian for you once he’s done with his song.”
Bradley looked over to see that the groom had moved over to the karaoke station, where his two younger brothers were egging him on to sing a song that was definitely out of his range.
Ugh.
“You know, I think I’ll just text him,” Bradley said with a sigh, not willing to put himself through two verses, three choruses, a bridge, and a reprise.
“Hey buddy, are you okay?”
“Yeah, just tired.”
“Alright. Well, it was good to meet you.”
The man held out his hand, and Bradley gave it a shake before heading up the stairs towards his own room.
While he had covered the expense of the entire bachelor party for his friend, he hadn’t been entirely selfless. He’d gotten himself one of the bigger rooms, a suite, set farther away from the rest of the crew.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, it was just that he really was tired and he only had so much he could tolerate with so many people in one place. Maybe one of the reasons he liked numbers was because they were quiet, they didn’t overwhelm him and demand his attention all at once. Or maybe it was that being on the ranch, surrounded by only his family, had made socializing even more exhausting than it had been in high school.
“It was good to meet you too,” Bradley answered belatedly, but the cousin was already gone, leaving Bradley to finish his ascent up the stairs and across the landing.
He’d made sure to check out all the rooms before the party started to be firmly certain that everything was fine, so he already knew the way to his special suite. He found his mind wandering again, landing on thoughts of whether he should date or not.
He’d thought he’d wait until he was in his thirties, but that was multiple years away. Admittedly, his whole disinterest in dating was probably because of Gloria, a girl he had dated in college.
Their relationship had been short but intense, and somewhere around the third date they’d gone out dancing in the city, and she kept ordering him drinks. At first, he thought it was cute, her trying to treat them even though his family was wealthy, like turning the normal dynamic on its head. But then he’d realized that she was definitely trying to get him drunk. He’d put an end to her shenanigans that night, but then the next week she tried again. He ended up dumping half his drinks and acting drunker than he was, wondering what her goal was. She kept trying to finagle him into compromising positions while she had her phone out.
He put it together that she was trying to get incriminating evidence to blackmail him, which was rather stupid. Bryant had been photographed with all sorts of people in all sorts of inappropriate situations, and they never paid off any of the people who tried to extort the family.
So, he’d ended it quickly with her and had decided that the whole thing was more trouble than it was worth. He still thought that way, but his brothers sure did look happy…
Bradley was so deep in his thoughts that he almost didn’t hear the distinctive yelp of panic as he passed down the hall. But the second time it rang out, it caught his attention and he stopped in his tracks.
There, to his right. A cry for help! The voice was terrified and barely audible through the thick doors, but he knew someone who was scared when he heard it. This definitely wasn’t an instance of noisy neighbors.
No, there was something serious going on.
“Someone! Please!”
There was no thought after that. The next thing Bradley knew, his body was pivoting on his heel, the other foot lashing out to land just under the handle of the door the sound was behind. The kick caused a loud thud, but the door didn’t give, prompting him to give it another solid blow.
The door popped open, slamming against the wall and only then did Bradley come back to himself. He wasn’t some action movie hero. He was the skinniest of the Miller boys and good at math.
But the scene before him had him forgetting all of that. There was a woman in the corner, curled so tightly that she was almost child-sized. She was crying, with her arms crossed over her head like she was avoiding blows.
There was a man standing over her, taller than Bradley, broad-shouldered and full of muscle. Bradley saw the raised belt in his hand and a burning, churning demand for justice rocked him from head to toe.
Somehow, he got his mouth to work despite the fact that he felt like he was on fire from the inside out.
“Hey, back off.”
Ah yes, back off. Brilliant repartee. The large, muscled man was sure to be intimidated.
But the man didn't even pause, his arm coming down and the belt cracking through the air like lightning. Bradley surged forward so fast it felt like his brain was left behind at the door, grabbing the man’s arm and shoving him as best he could.
The woman gasped as if she hadn’t even noticed he was there, and the man turned on him too, eyes flashing.
“Stay out of this,” he demanded, looking down his Roman nose at Bradley.
“No,” Bradley said, wishing he had a clever retort, but there was nothing. His entire brain was dedicated to protecting the woman huddled against the wall, so enveloped in her oversized clothing that he couldn’t really pick out a single detail of her appearance.
“No?” the man repeated as if he was shocked.
“No,” Bradley answered, stepping forward right into his space. He didn’t know what was dictating his actions. The biggest fight he’d been in during the past decade was with a particularly stubborn bull who had a bit of an attitude.
The man surged forward, ready to barrel through the smaller, more lithe Bradley, but the Miller son brought up his arms. They clashed together, without any blows, shoving each other but neither gaining traction.
It took longer than Bradley would like to admit for logic to get to him, the violent man shoving at his chest like he was trying to drive the Miller into the wall. Yanking his shirt free from the man’s grasp, he stepped to the side and twisted, the attacker stumbling a few steps forward.
Bradley took the chance to plant his foot on the small of the man’s back and give him a forceful shove. It did what he hoped, sending the larger male stumbling to the ground.
Somehow, some part of his mind reminded him that he didn’t actually like violence, and his arm whipped out, grabbing the door and slamming it shut before the man could get to his feet. Throwing himself against it, he went to lock it, before remembering that he was the one who broke the handle when he’d kicked the door in.
“Hey, I don’t know who you are,” Bradley said through the door. “But I’m here with a whole crew, and I’m about to call the cops. If you want to get out of here, you should do it now.”
The man threw himself against the door, rattling the whole thing, but Bradley held it firmly.
“He’s not going to give up,” the woman rasped from the corner, struggling to her feet.
She was shaking hard enough almost to the point of vibrating, and he was worried about her passing out. His instincts were screaming at him to go help her, to make sure that she was alright, but he couldn’t hold the door and help her up at the same time.
It was a fierce tug of war inside of him for several minutes, torn between the two impulses, until finally, it was too much. When he heard the man step back for another charge, he threw the door open and stared him down.
“Stop!” Bradley ordered with as much strength in his voice as he could.
Something in his tone must ha
ve worked because the man skidded to a stop and gave him one more long, long look before spitting right at Bradley’s feet.
“I’ll be back later, Soft.”
Soft? Bradley didn’t get a chance to ask what ‘Soft’ meant, because the man turned on his heel and cleared out like something was after him. Which was exactly what was going to happen once Bradley got his phone out and called the cops.
A thunk sounded behind him, and he whipped around to see the woman had gotten to her feet but was leaning against the wall. Had she stumbled? He rushed to her side, only slowing when she flinched away from him.
“Hey, I’m here to help you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” the woman snapped, trying to push past him. But she wavered for a moment, her olive-toned face going pale.
Bradley caught her as she swayed.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, wiggling out of his hold and grabbing the overturned table edge. “I have to go. I have to go before he comes back.”
“He’s not coming back any time soon,” Bradley soothed, his feelings practically storming inside of him, demanding that he help, that he protect. Taking off his flannel, he draped it over the small woman’s shoulders. It wasn’t that she was particularly nude, in her oversized gray T-shirt and pajama pants, but with the way she was shaking, he hoped the thick and sturdy shirt would give her some comfort.
She clutched it around herself, pulling it tight like a cape, and finally, she let him wrap an arm around her. Pulling out his phone, he dialed 911.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Hi, yeah, I’m at the Folsam Tavern, and some guy was just attacking a woman in here. I intervened, but he got away.”
“We are sending officers right away. Is the woman injured?”
Bradley looked out of the corner of his eye to her, taking in the bruising on her face and arms and her swelling features. “Yeah, but she’s up and mobile.”
“Alright, please stay with her. May I have your information, sir?”
Bradley answered all of her questions as they slowly moved towards the door. The woman seemed to be caught somewhere between clinging to his form and trying to push herself away so she could handle herself. He didn’t mind, however, and kept his supportive grip loose enough so she could step away anytime she made the decision to.
In all his life, he never thought he’d end up in a situation like this. It was definitely something his brothers—especially Bart—were made for, with their jacked frames and athletic pastimes. But still, he was glad that he was there for the woman at his side. He’d hate to think of what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped to help her.
He guessed all those brawls in high school were good for something after all.
2
Sophia
The world was spinning around Sophia, making the floor tilt in ways she was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to. But at the same time, she couldn’t even be that upset about it, because the pitching and churning and the pain in her head meant she was alive.
That thought alone was almost impossible for her to grasp through the pounding in her head. She had been so certain that she was dead. That she was going to end up as another statistic despite everything she had done to prevent that from happening.
That thought sobered her elation considerably. After everything she had done… it really had all been for nothing, hadn’t it? She should have known better; she was too stupid to—
“Hey, we’re coming to the stairs now, do you want to walk or have me carry you?”
That was the low voice of the man who had come to save her. Like some sort of avenging angel, he had kicked open her door and chased off her demon who was trying to drag her back to hell. It was hard to see through her swelling eye and the kaleidoscope of spinning colors, but from what she could tell, he really did look like a celestial creature come to save her.
Except there was no such thing as angels. And if there was a God, he wouldn’t waste his time on someone like her.
“I can walk,” she snapped. Or at least tried to. She had the feeling her words came out as more of a lazy slur between her swollen lips, but the man didn’t comment. Instead, his arm held steady at her back as they slowly descended the stairs.
Suspicion rose in her with every step. Although the strange man was strong and beautiful, that did not mean he was good. After all, no man ever did something without wanting payment or recompense, no matter how shiny and polished their outsides were.
What if he led her to his room? Or some dark corner? Had she just stumbled out of the frying pan and into the fire?
But she was relieved when they reached the landing and he leaned her against the banister, letting her cling to that while he waved down an employee.
She watched, hazy-eyed, as he told the worker what happened. After a moment, he returned, helping her up and leading her where the employee was taking them.
They ended up in what looked like an employee breakroom to the side of the bar, just outside of the regular foot traffic, but not so isolated that she felt like she was in danger from the man who was still helping to support her.
“I should go,” she repeated again, trying to put her thoughts in order.
The more time that passed, the more her adrenaline faded from her system, leaving her feeling exhausted and all syrupy in her head. But also, there was an undercurrent of familiar pain. The kind of hurt she’d told herself she would never have to feel again,
And yet there she was, feeling exactly the way she had so many times before.
“The cops are almost here, okay? And they’ll be bringing an ambulance, I’m sure. You just gotta sit tight.”
Cops? Oh, right. He thought they would help. Or he was one of them. Was he one of them? Well, no, that didn’t make sense. If he was one of them, he never would have chased him out of the room in the first place.
Unless he was trying to trick her?
Her head throbbed, and she groaned. The man’s grip tightened on her before he settled her into a chair, letting her lean against the table. She appreciated the cool wood against the pounding heat of her face, watching him as he crossed to the counter and wetted down a hand towel, then grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.
He turned to her but froze in mid-step, then turned and grabbed a straw.
“Here you go,” he murmured, kneeling in front of her and unscrewing the cap.
Her vision swam, and the next thing she knew, he was pressing a straw up to her mouth.
“Slow sips, okay?”
She closed her eyes against all the spinning and did as he asked, enjoying the cool, cool water as it washed over her mouth. She swallowed it down greedily, ignoring the distinct taste of blood, and didn’t stop until she felt slightly more human.
“There you are,” the man said, putting it to the side. “Do you wanna wash your face up a little? I think you’d feel better.”
She nodded, reaching out to take the towel, but instead he gently pressed the cloth to her forehead. The dampness of it felt delicious against her skin, and she allowed herself to sit still. Sure, this man might want something, but it was clear he wasn’t asking for anything at the moment, and for the moment, she could use all the comfort she could get.
“Hey, I know you might not feel like talking right now, but do you know who attacked you?”
All of those pleasant feelings waned as the whole situation settled in on her again. Once more, her reality had shifted, because she was too stupid, just too darn weak to get away.
“I’m not weak!” she hissed, objecting to her own thoughts. She wasn’t. She wasn’t.
She tried so hard. It wasn’t her fault that he… that he…
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” the man continued, looking at her with those deep, chocolate eyes that looked like they could promise everything nice in the world.
“He’s a bad man,” Sophia answered softly, feeling her whole body start to shake again. It was like speaking about hi
m would suddenly summon him into being right beside her. And this time, he would really kill her.
“Yeah, I thought as much. Did you know him?”
Sophia nodded her head, which turned out to be a mistake because her head throbbed violently enough for her to gag with nausea.
“Whoa, let me get you a trash can,” the stranger said, hopping to his feet and going to the nearest bin. By the time he was back in front of her, the gagging feeling had passed and she was mostly okay. Well, okay except for the dizzy thing, the pain in her head and her arms, and the squeezing feeling she had in her chest.
So… maybe mostly not okay.
But she would live.
“You okay?” the man asked, raising another part of the cool cloth to her cheek. “You don’t have to tell me anything. You can wait until the cops are here.”
But suddenly there were words rushing out of her mouth, thick and stuttered, but words, nonetheless.
“His name is Travis. Travis Wilcox.” She took a deep breath, but she still felt so empty. “He’s my fiancé—”
“Your fiancé!”
“Uh, my ex-fiancé.” She fell silent at that, feeling shame creep up her spine with its slick, oily fingers. “I… I ran away.”
“You ran away?”
She nodded. “We met when I was seventeen. He was seven years older than me and so, so mature.”
She closed her eyes at how stupid she had been. How naive. She’d really thought he was some knight in shining armor, come to whisk her away from her dull high school life and treat her like a princess.
She continued, “He… he wasn’t always like this. But he got hurt on the job and things started to go bad. At first, he would just yell at me. But then, I just… I just…” Her voice broke, and she hated herself so much. “I couldn’t stop making him angry. No matter how hard I tried, I would always mess something up!”
“Hey, hey now, it’s okay.” The man leaned forward, almost crowding in her space, but he stopped when she pressed herself further back into the chair. He settled instead on pressing the cool cloth to her face again. “It’s not your fault.”